Birds bumping into the screens and windows.
Did they feel the equinox bump us
into nesting season? The robins came early
and found snow covering the frozen worms.
I want to leave the nest now.
The birds sense winter coming this morning.
Sparrows flutter, fight and search the eaves
for hiding places from the next season.
Blue jays, cardinals, chickadees, all anxiously feeding,
reminding me of things still left undone.
From the sandy hillside, this tricolored heron
walks the stone steps with more dignity
than our President, and surveys this world.
As it was in the beginning, now
my intercessions rise with his winged leaving.
They came to us as early spring,
and like Labor Day beachgoers, they left.
Off to the top of South America,
following the warmth. Snow birds. Senior citizens.
Frequent flyers, amassing miles for next year.
the falconer tries to train the goshawk.
This fierce raptor’s pale-eyed view of death
is graceful control and surrender. This duality
of taming the fierce and feral parts
of the bird, ourselves and the world.
British goshawk by Archibald Thorburn, 1915 (public domain)
Inspired by reading H Is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald – a book about much more than training a goshawk.